


If I Was Gonna Haunt Somebody, It Would Be You

by Liondragon (Sameshima_Shuzumi)



Series: Spooky Offerings [17]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Animal Death, Bodyswap, Canon Disabled Character, Food Issues, Gen, Gothic, Haunted Houses, High-key Dread, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Kid Fic, Low-key Peril, Mild Blood, Period Typical Attitudes, Scars, Survival, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-06-08 05:44:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6841351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sameshima_Shuzumi/pseuds/Liondragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A creepy house they can't leave. A blond giant who can't stay. A promise that they'll be fine if they stick together. One little problem: his name's not Bucky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If I Was Gonna Haunt Somebody, It Would Be You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChaoticDemon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticDemon/gifts).



> Combined prompts! Hope it's to your liking.  
> General content warning: Hey, little kids say stuff. Don't be too hard on them. Mind that the narration is meant to be in their voices, too. They're also left alone to fend for themselves, with a dose of hyper-vigilance, which is the biggest real-world trigger. Also, _little kids_.

He woke to a giant shaking his shoulder. "Five more minutes," he whined.

"I'm sorry, pal," the giant said. "You gotta listen to me, okay? This is real important." The giant took off his bright blue hood, and oh, he had sparkly golden hair like a Disney princess. He was also crying.

It took an effort to sit up. It had to be important if the giant was crying. He put on his listening ears. "Mm-kay."

The giant gave him a watery smile. "I've only got a minute. We... we have to leave you alone in this house. We're working on a way to get you out, and... yourselves again. Okay? _We will come back for you,_ " the giant said, gripping his shoulder and staring at him like it was the most important thing ever.

"Oh-kay. Gotcha."

"You have to stay on the grounds. Can you do that? Don't even go near the white fence. Otherwise you'll... you'll get lost, and we won't be able to find you. Nothing here can hurt you, as long as you stick together," said the giant.

Sounded simple enough. He was, of course, super curious about what lay beyond the white fence, wherever that was. Probably outside, since they were inside right now. "Sit tight. Got it."

"Everything's gonna be fine. You'll be safe here. I promise you won't be left behind."

The giant's face was twisting up like he was having a fit. It was a little overwhelming, almost as much as how giant the giant was, like he could build a runway on his shoulders. Before he could open his mouth to interrupt, though, the air throbbed with some kind of thermal wave.

"That's my ride out," said the giant sourly. "Take care of each other, Bucky, you promise?" 

He blinked. "Sure."

With that, the giant took a running start and leaped out the window.

He blinked again. Wow. So, that was weird.

"My name's not Bucky," he said to the cavernous room.

Before he could ponder whether the giant was confused — he didn't seem evil, but he'd _heard_ that people having fits could get mixed up in the brain — he heard a noise coming from the other sofa in the room.

It was another little boy, with dark hair and rosy cheeks. For the first time, he realized that there was something very, very wrong.

Tony kicked out his short legs so he could jump off the plumped up cushions, and nearly toppled to the floor. He'd reached out with his left hand to steady himself on the sofa.

Half his left arm wasn't there.

*

"Hey. Hey, uh, Bucky. Buck? Wake up."

Groggily, Bucky opened his eyes. There was a kid hovering over him, his face crumpled like he was trying not to cry. Not that he could see much of his face, what with his rat's nest of brown hair. Hadn't he ever heard of a haircut?

"Who're you?"

"Funny story," said the kid. "I'm Tony. I'm 99% sure you're in my body."

"What—?!"

"Stay down!" said the kid. Tony, apparently. "I've been watching your respiration. You're short of breath. You feel dizzy?"

"A little," Bucky admitted. Oh saints above, was he like Steve now? The couch he was lying in felt real soft, embroidered all fancy like in a lady's sitting room. His chest was straining. His limbs... Tony's limbs? ... felt heavy.

"Found some orange juice in the fridge," said Tony. "Take really deep breaths, okay? If we get our bodies back, I don't want it in sub-par condition."

Bucky took the glass with both hands. "So glad to know you care," he said dryly. He oughta give this kid a fat lip for mouthing off, except if he was telling the truth, Bucky would be punching himself in the face. He took a sip. "Whoa, it's cold!"

"I said fridge, didn't I?"

"What's a fridge?"

Tony blinked at him. "This is some Alice in Wonderland trip. Every time I think it'll be less weird, it gets weirder."

Bucky sipped at his juice. He squinted at Tony. Did he really look like that? The hair looked like the right color. His eyes, too, though this kid seemed more wide-eyed than usual. The faint freckles that his ma always kissed on the bridge of his nose were there. For a second Bucky thought they were reversed, then he realized he was used to seeing his reflection in a mirror.

"You better tell me how weird," said Bucky.

Tony told him.

They ended up with their noses plastered to the window where the giant had jumped out. Tony's... or his? ... handprint were already stamped on it where he'd pressed on the glass.

"The only blond fella who'd know to call me 'Bucky' is Steve," Bucky was saying. "I'm tryin' ta get my folks on board. It's all the time Jimmy this and Jimmy that."

"Yeah," said Tony absently. "I still get Anthony'd a lot."

That was a nice name, Bucky thought. "The Erikssons keep to themselves, they don't speak English so good. But Steve was no giant. If Steve got turned into anything, he'd be a pixie or an elf. Kind you leave the milk out for." Below them there was a sprawling garden the likes of which he'd only seen in fairy tale picture books or sketches of Vanderbilt mansions. There was the white fence.

Beyond the white fence was a big blank nothing.

It looked like a forest. Or a fog. Or foggy moors. Or a steep drop off into the ocean...

Bucky shivered. He had to agree: going beyond the white fence sounded like a terrible idea.

"He seemed to know you," Tony murmured.

"Did he know why you... why I was...?" Bucky gestured at the missing left arm. He felt bad for the poor kid. Who'd blow an arm off a kid? And how? Then he remembered that kid was supposed to be him, and he got triple-sick.

Tony shrugged. He was taut from head to toe. "He didn't seem to be surprised. But then again, he didn't have a lot of time to explain." He had tied his left sleeve up where the arm... ended, above the elbow, and was trying hard not to fiddle with it. "How do you only know one blond person?"

"We keep to our own territory," said Bucky. "Not that it stops Steve. Lemme tell you, that kid... he knows everybody, everywhere. I don't know how he does it. If I weren't keepin' an eye on my sisters, I'd save some money for the subway and tail him just to see how he don't get beat up every three blocks. I think he's even been to Harlem. By himself, can you imagine?"

"Wow," said Tony.

Which, one, made Bucky puffed up and proud that someone was impressed by Steve, and two, meant that Tony was familiar with New York.

Tony fidgeted with his sleeve again. Bucky's smile faded, thinking of the knot of _something_ on his chest. "Are you...? Before, were you...?" There wasn't a polite way to ask.

Tony got it right way. "Nope. Looks like we're both messed up." Then he blushed, which was awful and great at the same time, because Bucky never blushed. Steve wouldn't have let him hear the end of it. "I lifted your shirt while you were sleeping," he confessed.

"It's all in the name of proper detecting, right?" said Bucky loftily. "I don't blame ya. I mean, this ain't exactly Hoboken."

"Not in Kansas anymore?"

"The number of times I hadda see that movie," said Bucky. Steve was real keen on it. He'd read the book. Or books, more likely. Bucky missed the little bookworm. He'd have loved this detective story, and more importantly he'd have a million ideas of what to do about it.

"One of my mom's friends has a tape of it. I'm surprised she hasn't worn it out."

Bucky side-eyed him. "There you go again. Tape? I'm guessin' you don't mean ticker tape."

Tony spun around so fast, he nearly lost his balance. "Who uses ticker tape anymore? We don't even have parades with that stuff. There's probably a littering law about it."

They stared at each other.

A littering law? Wasn't that what the White Wings were for?

"The giant, uh, Steve, was he surprised to see you? I mean, me? In your shoes?" Bucky gestured to himself.

Tony shook his head. "He said to look out for each other."

"So he knows both of us." Then Bucky groaned. "Not that it makes a difference."

"Because Steve knows everybody."

"Do you remember meeting him?"

Tony looked even more anxious. Bucky wondered if he had a nervous condition. "Part of me thinks he looks really, really familiar. Part of me..." He turned Bucky's own agonized eyes on him. "I feel like we're forgetting something. Not just how we got here, or what happened to our bodies. Something... life-altering. Something huge."

Before Bucky could say anything, Tony broke away. He said, "I have a photographic memory. I shouldn't forget important things!"

"Hold up," said Bucky, and he clapped a hand on Tony's shoulder. "Look, you're in my body, aren'tcha? Maybe our minds are gettin' used to our heads, or something wacky like that."

Tony took a deep breath. "Right. That makes a crazy kind of sense."

Bucky had the urge to sweep the hair out of Tony's eyes. They used to be Bucky's, he knew that, but Tony had a way of being... expressive, like he couldn't help but leak honesty all over the place.

Instead, Bucky clasped his hands behind his back. "You been around this place? How'd you find the kitchen?"

"I followed the sound of the plumbing," said Tony. Gosh, he was a sharp one. "There's approximately twenty-four rooms."

Bucky whistled. "How about that! A mansion!"

"Not that big of one," muttered Tony. Then his big eyes shuttered, like he'd said too much.

Bucky opened his mouth to say one thing, then changed his mind. "What did you mean, 'approximately'?"

"Doesn't count any secret passages." Tony worried at his knotted sleeve, but he was grinning.

When Bucky laughed, Tony looked up like he was startled, then aimed that grin at Bucky. It was still weird, but Bucky was getting used to it. He was even more surprised when Bucky threw caution to the wind and took his hand. 

"How 'bout you and me stick together next time? Wouldn't wanna get lost in this pile."

"That's precisely what the giant guy said," Tony said, eyes huge in the dim light. "'Stick together.'"

"Sounds like a mission," said Bucky. 

Tony tugged him out of the room.

*

No matter how much Tony calculated it, the... incomplete arm kept throwing off his balance. It was bugging him that he couldn't compensate for it right away. Maybe he could attach something awesome to his currently useless arm, like a flanged mace or a sharpened hook. He didn't think he could lift a chainsaw...

Bucky was probably right about their switcheroo messing with their brains. It was too bad Bucky hadn't been missing an arm before; Tony could admit to himself that some advice wouldn't be the worst thing.

At least the problem took his mind off the seriously creepy house. He'd sneaked off to check out the layout after examining the sleeping Bucky. After grabbing a chocolate bar and the orange juice, he'd sneaked back just as quickly so he wouldn't be all alone. Everything smelled like moldy books. Everything _creaked_. It was like the whole house needed fixing. Though it was full of shadowy corners, it was tidy, at least. Except that made Tony wonder who or what had been through to clean the place.

The giant said the house would be safe for both of them. Steve, he supposed. For whatever reason, Tony was inclined to believe him.

It was certainly a lot less scary with Bucky to hold his hand.

Not that he needed hand-holding. He wasn't a baby. 

Once they got to the kitchen, Bucky bee-lined to the fridge. "Oh! It's an icebox. Yeah, I know what that is. Holy cow, it's packed! We've gotta ration it, though," Bucky said to him. "We don't know how long it'll be before they come get us."

'How long'? Tony squirmed in his chair, his stomach knotting up with dread. "I should check the fresh water stores."

"We, you mean. We'll check it." Bucky was counting eggs. He looked hungry. 

Tony realized he felt hungry. He'd already eaten the whole chocolate bar, which was enough to spoil his dinner. "Yeah. Sure. Could you hand me that sopressa?"

"Uh. Which one's that?" Bucky eyed him again. Like Tony was the weird one.

"It's right in front of you," said Tony petulantly. Then in his head he heard Jarvis tutting at him for his manners. He pointed. "The big roll of meat, please."

Bucky paused only a moment. He turned around and grabbed it. "You mean the salami. What'd you call it? This some kinda Italian salami? You Italian?"

"My mom," began Tony, opening a drawer, but he didn't get far before Bucky stole the knife out of his hand.

"Let me slice it," Bucky said.

"I can do it!" Tony said. Immediately he felt hot and cold all at once. _He didn't have a left hand._ He could rig something up to keep the sopressa from rolling on the chopping board, but he'd quickly forgotten about the lack.

Instead of getting mad, Bucky put his hand on Tony's shoulder again. It made Tony go hot all over. Gently, Bucky said, "I know you can, pal. You just don't look like the type to carry a pen knife. Or shuck an oyster. I'm good at knives, I can getcha your salami quicker. How 'bout you scare up the drinks?"

Mollified, Tony found some milk. In a glass bottle, even. He sniffed it like he'd seen Jarvis do. It smelled fresh. "Is this the kind of milk they deliver?" He looked over at Bucky. "Where'd all this food come from, anyway?"

Bucky froze. A slice of meat was halfway in his mouth. "You think this is the fae folk? If we eat it, are we stuck here?"

"Like Persephone." Tony blanched. He grabbed the tin of crackers and used a spoon to pop it open. "The giant Steve guy said we'd be safe here, he didn't mention anything else. I already ate a chocolate bar. You had the juice."

"We might as well stuff our faces." Bucky relaxed, and went back to slicing, chewing on one side of his mouth and talking out the other.

They settled around the hand-hewn wooden table at the center of the kitchen with plates of salami and crackers and a jar of peanut butter. Bucky smeared peanut butter on a row of crackers for Tony, and silently dared Tony to say something about it. Tony was too hungry to fuss. He polished off two plates and was on his second glass of milk.

"Were you always this hungry before?" he asked Bucky. He needed more data about this body.

"We're always hungry," said Bucky, matter-of-fact. "Why, you famished?"

"Maybe I've got a condition," Tony said. Bucky's expression stiffened. "I mean, I don't know, it doesn't feel right. I've been noshing since I woke up. I should be full by now."

Bucky looked down at Tony's body. "Other than the roadmap on your chest—"

"That's new."

"—I figured. You're on the skinny side."

"'Cept my baby cheeks," Tony grumbled. Everyone always made a grab for them. "I burn it off. High metabolism. But I guess you can't do that if you've got a heart problem."

Bucky looked alarmed. "You think I'll need medicine for it?"

Tony stopped chewing. "Even if we found some, it'd be dangerous to take it without a doctor. And this place..."

The kitchen was dauntingly huge. Tony had been in gigantic spaces, full of gilt and mirrors and crystals, but every room he'd seen of this house was... gaping and empty. The fireplace looked big enough to hold a luau. Pots and pans hung from a rack over the enormous chopping board. He found himself imagining other giants, giants who weren't nice like Steve, chopping things with giant cleavers.

Bucky seemed to pick up on the same vibe. His chair scraped as he shifted closer to Tony. Their legs were swinging a half inch from the tiled floor.

"This place gives me the willies," said Bucky quietly.

"Who says that anymore," said Tony, though he was just as quiet.

"You're a picky eater, aren't you?" said Bucky knowingly. Tony ducked his head. Everyone complained about that, even if some of them were amused. 'Eats like a bird.' His dad joked about it like he didn't think it was funny.

Bucky took that for a yes. "You don't act like you've gone wanting. Hungry, I mean."

Tony forced himself not to react. So he wasn't poor. He could talk to poor kids. Lots of them were nicer than the rich kids he was forced to spend time with. At least, until they found out who he was. "Not really, no," he mumbled.

Now Bucky was boring holes with his eyes. Tony glanced over and couldn't help but think his eyes looked a lot more clever and insightful than Tony did when he was using them. "Hey, tell me," Bucky said. "You know what a bread line is?"

"It's a line... for bread?"

"Thought so," said Bucky smugly. He sat back, brushing their shoulders. "You're not from my time. But you know New York, doncha? I'd say we could be neighbors, 'cept you're some swell, right? I thought that panel was a dumbwaiter," he explained. "You knew it was a laundry chute."

"Opened the wrong way. The dumbwaiters go up from the kitchen to the bedrooms," said Tony. He wasn't sure if Bucky was complimenting or insulting. He was paying close attention though, and Tony wasn't used to it. "On top of all this weird crap, we're time traveling too?" He got peanut butter on his fingers. "What about giant Maybe-Steve? How'd he know both of us?"

Bucky reached back and snagged a dishtowel. He took possession of Tony's hand to wipe up the peanut butter. Like it was no big deal. "Could be he knew us after the time travel."

Nonplussed, Tony let him clean up and then load another plate for him. "I was gonna get to the time travel soon, too. Once I got the math down."

"You know how to time travel?" Bucky asked eagerly. He was practically bouncing in his seat.

"No. I wish! It's only the theory. It's probably possible for particles or energy, but not whole people. That's my guess," he qualified.

Bucky pointed a cracker at the walls, the ceilings, the general situation. "Theory didn't get the telegram about this place!"

Tony choked back a giggle. Way to sound like a baby. "Guess not." 

Bucky smirked at him like he knew he was laughing on the inside. "What was your question 'bout the milk?"

"Great Depression, right?" Tony deduced. "Did you have milkmen?"

"Not me, but..." Bucky trailed off, all amusement draining away. Uneasily he pushed the milk bottle away from himself with a finger. "You're right. That tasted like fresh milk, outta Jersey. So who's the milkman?"

The kitchen was awfully still.

"Let's check all the locks," said Tony.

"Good idea," said Bucky.

They pushed their chairs back and scooted out of there like their pants were on fire. This time, Tony reached for Bucky's hand.

*

There were only three doors to the outside, one of them leading to an enclosed courtyard. They were both relieved to find the root cellar was connected to the kitchen only, and didn't have some trapdoor leading to the garden. "No tornado shelter but we don't want to be caught outside anyway," Tony had said. They'd glanced at each other like it was agreed that was the worst part of _The Wizard of Oz_.

That left the windows. There were a lot of windows. Bucky dared to climb the heavy curtains to check the ones in the music room. (Though he insisted he was only a little short of breath, Tony practically sat on him to take a break.) Unfortunately, the solarium and one of the ballrooms had two-story high windows, and Bucky could see that they had latches too.

Finally they settled on sprinkling salt along the perimeter. There were big bags of it in the cellar. Right next to what Tony said were chest freezers, so why would they need all that salt?

As though this place wasn't creepy enough.

From the bunch of keys they found in the butler's quarters, Tony picked out the one for the freezers, and after checking that they were empty, locked every single one. Bucky wasn't sure why he wanted that key; Tony didn't argue when he asked for it. Bucky looped some clothesline through it, and felt strangely better once it was hanging around his neck.

Tony was looking around the underground space. It was almost cold enough to fog up their breaths. "This isn't a standard dungeon," he said.

Bucky stood next to him. He had a point. The cellar was full of light streaming in from the interior windows, chasing away any spooky shadowy spots. It smelled of drying herbs and woodsmoke.

"Still creepy," whispered Bucky.

"Yeah," said Tony. "It's too clean." Not even a cobweb.

"Let's get outta here."

The stairs which had creaked on the way down were silent when they climbed up. Without talking, they broke into a run, and shut and locked that door behind them.

*

They were tracking the water pipes through a tight little closet into the attic when they realized they didn't know what grades they were in.

Tony thought that maybe he'd skipped some grades. But he wasn't sure if it was middle school or primary school, or if he had a tutor. Bucky could remember playing sports; he could remember little Steve.

"I'd say you're somewhere between twelve and eight," Bucky said.

"That doesn't narrow it down," Tony complained.

"You could be a small..." Bucky trailed off. He looked a bit sick. He dropped the sandwich and stared at his hands.

Tony's hands. Tony noticed there were calluses on his fingers. They weren't entirely soft and pampered.

"You okay?" Tony asked quietly.

The house creaked. 

"I had... I have... I had sisters," Bucky got out. "I can see their faces. I can't, Tony, I can't remember their names."

"Maybe it's some weird thing, with the body switching, maybe your brain's just stuck," Tony babbled.

When that didn't work, Tony put his arm on Bucky's shoulder. For a frenzied second he thought his heart was beating a too fast in that close space, and Bucky would get sick and collapse and leave him all alone. Then Bucky leaned his (Tony's) brow on his shoulder, his other hand dangerously close to the maimed arm, breathing so fast that the fabric of Tony's shirt was fluttering.

That's when Tony finally began to panic.

*

Wherever they were, there was a day and a night, despite there not being a sun that they could see. All they saw was a teal sky which might not even be a sky. Maybe it was the inside of a sorcerer's box, or even a vaulted ceiling painted blue. Whatever was above them, the light began to dim when the huge grandfather clock in the front hall hit six o'clock. 

After a quick dinner of cold cuts, they set off to find a place to sleep. There were bedrooms on the third and second floors, plus one odd chamber that looked like a nursery. From that one they could see the curlicues of garden vines; they shut that door right away.

Up the creaky stairs they went, sometimes clambering with their hands to avoid the rickety railing. Tony made Bucky stop at every landing to catch his breath again. They'd wait under the multi-colored light from the stained glass windows, each one of them a different abstract design. There were some shapes which Tony took for falling leaves... until they started to look like eyes.

They didn't linger long on the stairs.

Bucky chose a roomy corner bedroom on the third floor with views of the garden and the front lawn. There was only one staircase leading to this wing, but Bucky pointed out that the window was a short leap over to a lower gable.

"You could crack both sets of windows," said Tony as Bucky raided the linen closet for blankets. "Gets a nice crosswind going. Unless," he said a bit rebelliously, "you're afraid of things getting in."

Bucky barely blinked. "Nah, we'd hear 'em coming up or landing from above. It's a good spot for a lookout, too. Can see a dry agent comin'!"

Tony opened his mouth to ask what that was, then shut it.

It was just as well, because Bucky carried on. "Hey Tony, you want the wall side or the window side?"

"Huh?"

"Wall or window? You too yellow to take the window, was that what you were sayin'?"

Tony found himself backing up. His shoulder, the one on the side of his incomplete arm, bumped on the door jamb. He winced. "What are you talking about?"

Bucky blinked at him. Once again it struck Tony how weird it was to see his face on someone else. "The bed. C'mon, I ain't a blanket hog, and even if I was, there's plenty to go around." He... pouted. Did Tony do that? "I didn't mean it 'bout bein' scared. If you don't like the window, we can booby-trap it just like Doc Savage. Or we don't have to crack 'em at all."

Tony could suddenly hear a voice in his head, snapping like a whip. _Be a man, not a yellow-bellied limp wristed...!_ He could remember a library book being ripped from his hands. Those books were for pansies.

Tony could feel his remaining hand curl into a fist. Suddenly he wanted both hands back. He wanted to know where those calluses had come from... but that would mean touching Bucky. Bucky who was riding in his body. Tony's lip curled. "I'm not sharing a bed with another boy!"

Bucky's jaw dropped. "Well, that's fine by me, pal, I could always take the floor. You don't gotta—"

"Don't have to what," said Tony. His own voice seemed to be coming from far away. It wasn't his own voice anyhow. "You can snuggle with your pillows. If you've left me any blankets, I'm going to set up my own bed."

Now Bucky looked alarmed. "Tony, it's not a good idea to split up. Come on. I shouldn't have teased you, I'm sorry."

"You'll be fine. Just lock your door." With that, Tony backed out and kicked the door shut.

*

Bucky listened to Tony circling in the hallway before taking the smaller interior bedroom. He was steamed; he had no idea Tony would be such a baby about sharing a bed. But it was still Tony's body he was in, so he couldn't get himself worked up. Tony's constant mollycoddling did get on his nerves. Except he was pretty sure he did that to Steve all the time. He'd never think of Steve as weak, only stuck in a weak body, just like Bucky was now.

So Bucky peeked through the keyhole to watch Tony putter around trying to wrangle blankets and sheets for himself. He watched Tony trying to reach the top shelves with only one hand. Watched him fail, and fall on his behind, and leave. Bucky almost went out in the hallway to scale the shelves himself, when Tony returned with a pushbroom wrapped in a pillowcase that — Bucky realized, heart skipping — Tony must've tied off with his teeth. He nudged the folded linens till the whole thing tumbled down on him. The ones he caught, he carried into his bedroom. The ones he didn't, he kicked to the floor of the closet and left there. 

Bucky gritted his teeth.

Let him sleep in that armpit of a room. It had one window that faced a wall. It didn't even have curtains. It was right by a drainpipe, so if something wanted to slither up from the courtyard...!

Bucky wadded up some cotton from inside his pillow to block the keyhole. He ripped up a bedsheet and tied silver candlesticks to the cracked open windows. He tried not to think of Tony making his bed with one hand.

The breeze wafted in the scent of flowers, sickly sweet.

Bucky curled up in the fine bedding, and missed warm bodies and smog.

*

Tony woke up in the middle of the night. Blearily he went through why he would be awake. Did he need to go potty? A glass of water? The last burnt ends of Jarvis's brownies?

He jolted to full consciousness. Jarvis wasn't here. He wasn't sure where 'here' was. He was... in someone else's body.

Tony shuddered in the darkness. It was fully dark in the room. No nightlights, no street lamps, no soft glow from the distant city.

Unbidden, his mind clicked through old data. His body was from the Great Depression. Tony wasn't sure where or when he was from; would Bucky be an old man?

Was Bucky... not alive anymore?

Tony was struck by a terrible vision of Bucky's name on a tombstone. Frantically he kicked off the covers with legs that didn't belong to him. Time travel wasn't possible! But Tony didn't know anything about souls, no one would talk about them even if his Mom would hint now and again; he could be wearing a dead boy's body. He could be in a... a zombie's body.

Then what was Bucky? Had Tony dreamt him up? Why was his heart weak? Had _Tony_ died? Had they gotten mixed up and lost and all of a sudden Tony needed to go see if Bucky was real. That he wasn't a name on a grave. Tony could... not-like Bucky all he wanted, but he didn't want him to stop _existing_.

It was deathly cold in the hallway.

Tony crept barefoot to the door across the way. He had a couple of bobby pins he'd salvaged from another bedroom, already modified for picking locks. Tony was good at that. He could be quiet. He'd just open the door and peer inside and then shut it again. Bucky wouldn't even wake up.

The door wasn't locked. Hadn't Tony told him to lock it? He was sure he'd done that. 

As the door swung open, Tony was thinking that he'd need a mirror to make sure Bucky was breathing. That he wasn't cold.

Then his gaze fell upon the bed. 

It was made.

Sheets tugged tight enough to bounce a coin. Hospital corners. A pair of pillows no head had touched.

Tony stifled a gasp.

The room was chilly though all windows were shut. Tony edged around the perimeter of the room. He couldn't go near the bed. He couldn't look away from it. It was as though Bucky had never piled on a ridiculous number of blankets on it, like he was going to freeze to death. Tony felt tears prick his eyes, and he gulped hard, fighting them off. Think. Think! It had to be a stupid prank. That would be just like Bucky, wouldn't it? Tony didn't know him well but he was sure that'd be... right up his alley. Yeah.

Tony opened the imposing wardrobe at the far end of the room. "Bucky?" he whispered. His voice was shaking. 

His voice belonged to Bucky. Tony didn't want to hear what Bucky sounded like, terrified, but he knew now, and he wished desperately to un-know it.

Tony checked all over the room, his hand groping forward in the dark. He knocked on the walls, hoping he would hear a hollow space, find a hidden door.

"Bucky... this isn't very mature..."

He mustered his courage and dug through the bed. Maybe there would be a gaping pit where Bucky had been sleeping. And there was nothing. He checked under the bed. 

Tony was wiping tears from his cheeks now, whispering Bucky's name. He checked the whole room twice. He stumbled into the cold, dispassionate hallway and felt the walls. He knocked on all the doors in the wing. He called for Bucky till he felt he was going in circles.

What if he and Bucky were ghosts? They could've died at different times. Maybe they had intersected in a fleeting connection of points in space-time and the fabric of the universe had flattened out while they slept _and they'd never see each other again_.

Weary with guilt and grief, Tony found his way to the washroom. He was careful to lock the door. He took a pee and washed up. Bucky's red-rimmed eyes and livid cheeks stared at him from the oval mirror. Unconsciously Tony rubbed at the stump of his arm. He turned away and dragged himself back to his tiny bedroom, got under the covers, and wept into his sleeve.

*

Bang!

Tony jolted awake. The strange not-sunlight was cloyingly warm on his face.

Bang! Bang!

There was someone knocking on the door. 

Then a muffled voice.

"I swear on all that's holy, Tony, if you don't come outta there right now—!"

Tony leaped out of bed, catching his ankles on the blankets, and with shaking hands unlocked the door. 

Bucky was standing in the hallway, one hand still raised to knock. 

"You're alive," Tony choked. He launched into Bucky, and clung to him with all his might. Something crashed, then Bucky had his arms around Tony, holding on just as tightly.

"Mary Mother of God, I thought you were gone," Bucky whispered. His chest went up and down. Breathing hard. But breathing! "I got up to make you a sandwich 'cause I thought you'd be famished again. The blankets you'd left on the floor were gone, and I opened your door..."

"I opened your door too," Tony babbled. "Your bed was made. Like you weren't even there. Like you'd never been there at all!"

Bucky was nodding wildly. "I almost climbed down the drainpipe to see if you'd fallen into the courtyard. I went all over, looked at all the exits. The room where we woke up, the window was squeaky clean, not a smudge." Roughly he swiped at his face, then hugged Tony tighter.

"I'm sorry," Tony cried. "The giant told us to stick together, and I... I was stupid. It was stupid."

"We'll never let us out of each other's sight again," said Bucky fiercely. 

Tony was okay with that.

Eventually they looked down to see the plate of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches had landed at their feet. Without spilling the sandwiches. "Would you look at that," Bucky said. "I was gonna leave it by the door anyway."

"Were you going to lure me out with a sandwich?" Tony said, a tad dubious.

"Well it worked, didn't it?" said Bucky with a grin. It didn't look out of place at all on Tony's face. 

With that, they began to laugh, laughing till tears ran down their faces again, not once letting go, not even to eat the sandwiches right there in the hall with their elbows hooked together and not a single care about spilled crumbs. 

*

From then on they stuck together. Often literally, even when they stumbled on each other's shoelaces. They had to venture outside to ascertain the position of the water tank. They'd spent the morning plastered to each other; Bucky now grasped Tony's shoulder, on the bum side, so Tony would have his hand free. 

The garden was actually two gardens: an English garden with vine tangled trellises on the side of the house and part of the front; and a blocky collection of elevated beds half-hidden by hedges. The latter was apparently the kitchen garden. They both marveled at the towering tomato plants until Bucky pointed out they weren't covered at all, and had not one bug-chewed leaf.

They could hear the whirr and buzz of insects. They just never saw any.

Tony clambered onto a raised bed above rows of fluffy dill — behind him, Bucky clutched at the hem of his trousers — and squinted at protrusion half-hidden by the odd angles of the roof.

"It looks like a basin for rainwater," Tony decided. "If we had an actual sun, I could estimate the trig and figure out the capacity." 

Bucky helped him down, balancing him easily, and didn't mention the persistent lack of clouds.

"We maybe won't die of thirst?" They were running low on juice. 

"Probably," said Tony as stoutly as he could. Bucky still slung an arm around his shoulder as they strolled to the storm door. Tony leaned into him, huffing. 

"We oughta keep boiling our water."

"Maybe we should do a real inventory, with a ledger and everything. We'll be making a lot of tea."

"You can use old tea," said Bucky. "It'll be weak but still tasty."

Tony almost said something about being a cheapskate. He held off. "I could try to build a simple sextant, except..." He craned over Bucky's shoulder. "I'd have to stand pretty far out on the lawn to get both sides."

They avoided looking too far down the lawn.

Bucky squeezed him for a second. "Yeah, let's not risk it."

"We could find a way up to the roof," said Tony doubtfully. 

"Sounds great," said Bucky.

Tony snorted. "Falling off the roof is not an option, Buck."

"Relax, we won't fall. We could tie rope around us. 'sides, if that tank's up there, it must be sitting on a level platform. Or it's gotta buncha crosspieces like a real watertower." He held the door for Tony. It didn't rankle as much this time around. "We don't gotta do it today. Like you said, it'll last us."

*

They had a picnic in one of the plush carpeted sitting rooms. Checkered sheets, cloth napkins, even a wicker basket. Next to the food was a sheaf of papers. Tony was starting all sorts of lists, meticulous as a grocer. They couldn't find any staplers, so Bucky quietly planned to find some thin wire and fasten them together.

"I'm sure I didn't eat that much before," Bucky said when he saw Tony's diet requirements. He winced. "My family woulda ended up in the poorhouse if I had."

"One more point for time travel," said Tony. 

"I wonder what the future's like," said Bucky, licking peanut butter off his fingers. "Can't be too hot if we're all banged up."

"It's pretty far out if it makes a place like this," said Tony, gesturing at the house.

Bucky crossed himself, just in case. "All the adventure serials say we're supposed to make a signal so's the search party can find us. 'Cept..."

"We don't know what else could find us," Tony finished grimly.

With that, they agreed to lie low.

*

That night, Tony piled into bed with Bucky, no arguments, no conditions. They'd pushed a small desk against the door. There was a half-finished sheet rope tied to the foot of the bed in case they needed to go out the window, and a more elaborate tin-can security system around the windows. Lines of salt. A small plate of sandwiches wrapped up in wax paper.

Without much talking, they huddled up under the blankets, with Tony too tired to worry about his stump lying on Bucky's side, nor Bucky able to stop himself from nosing Tony's neck. Bucky thought Tony was counting his breaths. 

They lay there, rigid with fear, until the silence of the house was too much and they both dropped into an exhausted sleep, fingers entwined.

*

The attic was suspiciously clean.

It was doing Bucky a favor, because he didn't know if Tony's body was like his Steve's: sensitive to dust and mold and pollen. In his back pocket was a folded up cloth mask that he was, inexplicably, both longing and reluctant to wear. Tony had made it special for him, muttering about keeping his body in good shape to cover how fretful he was about Bucky.

Sure, it was a lucky break. But the long, narrow space with its head-crackingly low rafters and tidy rows of boxes made Bucky clutch at Tony's waist, even though he was supposed to be helping Tony climb the pull-down ladder.

Even the beams of sunlight seemed suspect.

Tony had built a palm-sized contraption (with one hand, a toe, and his teeth, until Bucky came back with snacks and made him accept an assistant) which attached to a broomstick, and with it they opened the window closest to the water tank.

It was Bucky who set up the pulley system. He got to shimmy out the window, rope tight around his waist and chest. They'd both felt odd about Bucky's strapping up, but they didn't say it aloud. Tony babbled about ways to make the trip safer. New gadgets he could build.

The rope itself was knotted every foot, so Bucky wouldn't have to carry anything extra for measuring. "If you can't get around it, estimate the paces to the base and guess the angle from the top—" Tony was saying.

"I know how to work a sextant, Tony," said Bucky. Not the big fancy ones, though he'd seen them. Where from, though? Did he know any sailors? Bucky shook off the thought.

"You... do...?" Tony winced like he'd said something wrong.

Bucky shrugged. "Gotta figure out how to hit a window with a slingshot."

"That sounds illegal."

"Your New York doesn't sound like much fun, pal."

"It isn't," Tony said. "You okay?"

Bucky tugged on the rope and peered across the irregular planes of the roof. "All jakes. Stroll in the park. Just keep the rope tight."

"Aye, aye." They practiced their signals, in case anything jumped out to grab Bucky. Tony had a fireplace poker he'd practiced lobbing; they'd spent the morning wondering how Tony's aim had gotten so good, whether it was Tony's skill or Bucky's size.

The rope pulled taut. Bucky edged out on the sill, inspecting the gentle slope of the rows of shingles. The air was cool and pleasant. He was very aware that he was in Tony's smaller body, his own stockier model serving as counterbalance. Tony said he was on belay; the pulley would also magnify his strength. Bucky made himself let go of the rope. He needed his hands on the roof itself. He sat down and crab-walked down.

"Hey," came Tony's voice. "You okay?"

"Yeah, Tony!" Bucky reminded himself to make noise every now and then. He also got ready to turn around and make a dash for the attic window. They hadn't exactly discussed what would happen if _Tony_ was cornered.

Bucky reached a line of guttering, and dared to stand up a little. The roof seemed to zig and zag, tossing out odd angles and the occasional flash of window glass. He turned the corner.

Through the valleys, Bucky could make out a strip of green grass, and he had to clutch at a gable. He'd never been afraid of heights! For a second he thought it was Tony's brain kicking in, but the breeze gusted and funneled to him, like a giant invisible hand buffeting him.

"Tony," Bucky found himself saying. "Tony!"

"What is it?" Tony sounded reedy. 

Bucky cleared his throat. "Talk to me!"

There was a pause. "About what?"

"I don't care, just, just," Bucky shook his head. He chanced a swipe at his sweating face. "Anything! Nothing's wrong, I gotta, uh, get my bearings. Talk to me, Tony."

Without missing a beat, Tony's chatter floated out of the open window. He was going to build himself a harness and stick a contraption on his bum arm, so he wouldn't be so useless. Bucky felt his way toward the shadow of the water tank. Every now and then he yelled a question at Tony, and listened to him veer down another track.

The tank was sitting on a platform straddling the highest ridge. There wasn't much space to put his feet down, but he could lean flat between the bulk of the tank and the platform's corner. Bucky felt better once he was on level ground. More of the lawn was in sight, true, but it also seemed like a great vantage point to see the entire property. That was comforting.

He interrupted Tony's speech. "You'll never believe this!"

"What? Is Santa up there with his sleigh and reindeer? Are there funky gargoyles?"

There weren't any gargoyles, actually, and that struck Bucky as one more oddity for this sort of house. "There's a trapdoor!" 

"Huh?"

"It's a hatch under the tank! It's got those big metal wheel locks!" Bucky nearly reached for it with his left hand before stopping. "It's kinda hard to open on this side. I bet it's supposed to open out, and ya worm out from under the tank."

"We've gotta find where it connects!"

Bucky nodded, though Tony couldn't see him. He banged on the tank. "Sounds full! I can see some of the guttering all around it. I don't see any bird crap either." How else — they hadn't seen any birds. "You were right about the pipes! Two sets, where you said!"

"It was only logical," came Tony's voice. There was a hesitation, then he said, "Could you come back inside, Bucky?" 

Bucky tensed. "Somethin' wrong?"

"No... you've been out there a while. You might overheat out there."

"Sure. 'Course. I'll get our measurements and be back in a jiffy."

Bucky found he was sweating as he came through the attic window. Tony looked wan as he handed over the thermos of water. Bucky didn't think he'd ask for it, so he wrapped Tony in a quick hug. "You're not, yannow," Bucky said.

Tony blinked. "Huh?"

"You're not useless," Bucky said.

It was odd seeing his own face blushing. Bucky wondered if it was vanity that he was getting used to the sight.

"Okay, how do we get these ropes off?"

"You tied half these knots!"

"With my feet, geez, I never learned how to undo them."

"Fine, I'll untie us and you do the math."

"What's it like up there?"

Bucky glanced up from where he was tugging at the straps around Tony's waist. "It doesn't feel too high up, but that can't be right. I can see the whole place, it's about the size of a city block."

"And...?"

Beyond.

"I tried not to," said Bucky honestly. "Got a touch of vertigo out there."

The scritch of Tony's pencil paused. "If only we could fly, huh? No more ladders and rope."

"That'd be keen."

*

The milk tasted fresh, again. Some of their staples had also been replaced.

They were both glad they'd secured the attic before they left it.

"You think it's poisoned?" Tony murmured.

"Don't think so," Bucky said with a confidence he didn't feel. "Here's my two cents: I don't like starving and I don't wanna give this place a reason to get bent out of shape."

"Reasonable," Tony allowed, before tucking into his sandwich. Bucky had been worried he'd try to skip it. Tony said it was something about Bucky's metabolism, which basically meant Tony was sporting a bottomless pit of a stomach.

After that, every afternoon before the light failed, they left out a plate of food. Sometimes it was still there the next day. Without fail, though, it was replaced clean before the food had a chance to spoil.

 

* * *

 

They spent the next few 'days' securing their stores. Tony had a meltdown for an entire day once he realized that there didn't seem to be any kind of power source. He wanted to knock holes in the walls to trace the wiring; Bucky argued him down, then had to talk him down, because he couldn't accept how little sense it made to have a hot stove and a cold fridge and nothing generating electricity. Bucky privately thought the same. He simply didn't want to sound ungrateful to any ... ears in the walls.

Soon enough they settled a routine. Though Tony was always awake first, Bucky was the one who got out of bed and checked their traps. They made breakfast (or a mess). They'd been avoiding the apples before out of superstition. Now they figured out how to bake up oatmeal apple crumbles, and Bucky made slices for ready snacks, and Tony found a mechanical apple peeler that he could operate one-handed. They tried harvesting from the kitchen garden, only to find they couldn't manage much more than peel-and-boil.

"What we need is a cookbook," Tony grumbled. "Even Jarvis used one."

After a few failed tries, Bucky recreated a passable pancake recipe, so he made a pile of those. Tony said he could roll them up like sandwiches. He also wanted to use the plastic wrap to carry them around, but Bucky convinced him to stick to their usual sandwich bundle. He chopped up some hard cheese for Tony to wrap in plastic, though. Tony got good at filling Bucky's thermos by himself.

They decided to mark time on the decorative pillar next to the grandfather clock. Tony seemed reluctant to cut a notch into the wood, at first. After a few days, he got real enthusiastic about hacking into the scrollwork.

They tried not to go outside if they could help it. At most they'd dash out for five minutes to water the plants. They stuck a watering can under the tap while they did it, so they wouldn't waste time filling it the next time.

Tony set about making a prosthetic for himself. They argued about Bucky helping him until Bucky demonstrated he knew his way around a toolbox. Tony made a small bowl of gnocchi as an apology. Considering the disaster he left in his wake, it was quite the apology. Bucky thoroughly enjoyed it, the few stray potato skins and all.

After lunch they'd clean up their messes. Whoever or whatever was getting into every nook in the house and cleaning it, they didn't want to give them a reason to do anything _else_.

When they ran out of chores, they camped in one of the larger libraries and goofed off. Bucky taught Tony how to play tiddlywinks; Tony borrowed Bucky's hand to make string figures. Tony made plans to make pick-up-sticks and maybe a set of jacks. Bucky insisted that Tony could walk across the room with a dictionary on his head. Tony learned Bucky was terrible at handstands. On days when they were tired, they curled up on opposite couches and read books.

They 'found' more things when they were reading than at any other time. Tony had a field day with a wad of rubber bands found behind a desk. His aim was almost as good as Bucky's. A pile of socks that Tony declared had escaped from the dryer got turned variously into fingerless mittens and a half dozen puppets, courtesy of Bucky and a small sewing kit. (Tony loved doing voices, for once unbothered by his maiming when he used his feet to add puppet characters.) Bucky spotted a set of toy soldiers, and found he didn't want to play with them. Tony readily agreed; they put it back on the shelf where they'd found them.

A wooden nickel turned up. Tony spent an hour in a corner by himself before skittering over to Bucky, flashing his empty palm, then pulling it from behind his ear.

"Wow!" Bucky exclaimed. Tony brightened, bouncing on his heels. "That's swell. How'd you do that?"

"A magician never reveals his secrets." But Tony couldn't help himself — he had to explain all sorts of sleights of hand. After quite a few tries, Bucky got his nickel to 'walk' across his knuckles.

The third day in, they found a cookbook.

*

By the end of the week, the stench was too much. "We gotta draw a bath," Bucky said. "I'm gonna start sneezing in my sleep, at this rate."

Tony looked alarmed at this. He'd been _timing_ Bucky's activities, which had prompted a squabble, until Bucky took possession of the notebook in question and marked it himself. Beyond that and a sensible diet, they couldn't figure out what to do for Bucky's condition. Something about the fussing chafed on Bucky, but he had to admit they couldn't afford to be too cautious.

"We could rig up a shower," Tony began.

"No, we gotta scrub down," said Bucky. "Trust me, you've got grime in places you didn't know you had. We can fill up a basin and soak our clothes, too."

"You'll get cold in my skinny body," objected Tony.

"Whose fault is that?" Bucky snapped. 

Tony screwed up for a fight, his pout deepening into a scowl, before stomping off. "Get extra towels. We'll start a fire in the kitchen so we'll have heat, dry clothes, and hot food."

Bucky hurried after him. He touched Tony's arm; Tony didn't seem to like it when Bucky touched his shoulder or neck. "Good idea," he said, with a tinge of contrition. "I'll open up some soup. That'll heat up in no time."

"I've really got to build a one-handed can opener," Tony groused, but he relaxed at Bucky's touch.

They set everything up like they were putting on a Sunday dinner. Tony calculated that a hot bath would actually save them some water, and threw himself into the logistics. Bucky tried not to feel ridiculous putting kettles of hot water in the dumbwaiter, but it was the easiest way without having to split up.

Tony stared when Bucky took off his shirt. "Sorry," Tony said as Bucky dipped his elbow in the bathtub. "I saw, already."

"We could go one at a time, if you want," Bucky said. "Or turn around, or..."

"Nope," said Tony. "Can't." He gestured to his left arm. 

Bucky winced. Yeah, he'd have to help Tony.

Tony just shrugged. "It's fine. We have to do this fast anyway." He kick-pushed the basin they'd designated for the laundry closer to the tub.

"A tub like this will hold the heat in," said Bucky.

After setting the last of their traps — they kept a boning knife and one of Tony's hooked graspers next to the soaps — they locked the bathroom door and started stripping off.

Bucky had told himself not to stare, that Tony was from the posh side of town and probably didn't have brothers or sisters and wouldn't be used to it. He'd told himself, sternly. Except Tony wriggled out of his shirt, and Bucky was glad he was already in the steamy water, because it felt like his heart had dropped to his toes.

"No wonder your giant Steve was sore," said Bucky, his voice quivering. He'd had his share of skinned knees and bloody noses, but these scars. On _his_ body. Someone had done this deliberately.

Were they the same people who'd done it to Tony, too?

"I've been wondering, too." Tony looked as serious as he ever was. Actually, he looked more like Bucky this time, not like he was pretending to be a tough guy. "Maybe he's out there, going after the bad guys. He jumped out the window and landed safe. I bet he could take down anybody in the whole world."

That actually sounded like Steve. Bucky held out a hand for Tony to climb in. "He'll knock their heads in," said Bucky firmly. "Give 'em something to cry about."

Tony giggled.

"What?" said Bucky, amused despite himself.

"I like how you talk," said Tony.

"Oh yeah?" Bucky splashed him.

"Yeah!" Tony giggled again, and splashed him back.

Suds threatened to overtop the lip of the tub as they splashed each other, bubbling up into a pleasing, if pungent, white foam. Tony tried to dolphin-kick bathwater at Bucky. Bucky dunked under and came up spitting at Tony's eye, which Tony dodged with a shriek of "Gross!"

Eventually they calmed down enough to get back to business. Tony dipped his head back and shook out his hair underwater while Bucky leaned over the laundry basin and soaked a washcloth in steaming water. 

He lathered up the cloth and gave Tony a quick wipe-down. Tony giggled a little when he got to the soles, but it was kind of necessary given how much Tony used his feet. There were even ink-stains between his toes.

"My ma would have me by the ear if I let my hair grow that long," Bucky noted. Tony was already using a hair band that looked a little too much like a flower crown made of rubber bands, not that Bucky would admit it out loud. 

"You want me to trim it?" Tony asked as he hung over the tub and scrubbed their clothes on the washboard like Bucky had shown him.

Bucky peeked from under the pile of bubbles he was most certainly not shaping into a hat. "It's yours, at the moment," he said.

"I was thinking."

"Uh oh. Call the coppers."

"Shut up. I mean, there has to be some reason we can interact with each other." Tony wouldn't look at Bucky. "Something that pins us down to this intersection of time and space. We might both be from New York, but that's a tremendous area, lots of people..."

Bucky was unusually glad to hear the future New York was still full of people. "And we're not from the same time. So what's your thought, Tony?"

Tony tried to hide a sharp glance. Sometimes Tony did that, like he thought Bucky was pulling his leg. Bucky tried not to tease him too much, because Tony frequently couldn't tell the difference.

The glance went away, and Tony laid his chin on the tub's edge. "It's the body swap. I think that's the only reason we're... that we're still visible and tangible to each other. Right? I mean, what else do we have in common?"

"I dunno," said Bucky magnanimously. "We've got a lot in common. Smart. Gutsy. Witty. Dashing. Handso—"

Tony guffawed, poking Bucky's knee with his foot. Then he sobered. "What do you think we are, if we weren't connected like this?"

"Don't even think about it." Bucky floated over and nudged Tony. "It's no good. There's plenty enough to do as it is."

"I can't turn off my brain!"

"Don't say that either," Bucky said, a mite sharply. He broke out of the water to reach for the trousers Tony had abandoned on the board.

"Oh no you don't," Tony said, giving Bucky a powerful shove back into the drink. If he was startled by his strength, he didn't show it. "I'm scrubbing. You're wringing. Like we agreed. Stay in the warm water!"

"Yeah, yeah," said Bucky. He flicked Tony's ear.

"No," Tony blurted out. "Not my head. Not in the water."

Bucky nodded, and tried to hurry up his own washing. 

Despite his misgivings, Tony still took care washing Bucky's back while Bucky wrung the water out of their clothes and tossed them in the basket-sled they'd rigged. Tony was pretty fast with his one hand outside of the tub, too. In no time, he turned Bucky into what he called a 'towel burrito.' Bucky padded down the hallway with Tony dragging their laundry behind them, complaining that he felt like a mummy. Tony only giggled and told him he'd figure out how to roll him down the stairs. 

Bucky tried to head-butt him, confident that Tony would either dodge or keep his balance — Tony was entirely too worried about that, he'd adjusted quick — saying there was only room for one mental patient in a straitjacket. Tony took the glancing blow, and only giggled harder, slinging his shorter arm across Bucky's towel-wrapped back.

Tony started the fire pretty quickly, too. They pulled up chairs next to the hearth, wearing bedsheets like Greek togas and sipping hot cocoa.

Bucky found himself terribly tired. They could only do so many baths in so many days if it was going to be a production like this. Tony pulled his chair closer and let Bucky rest his head on his shoulder. Tony had already started on his mug of soup.

"I don't really care what we are," Tony whispered. "I'm glad you're here."

Bucky snuffled what was probably agreement. "Tell me what a burrito is."

"Well, I'm not actually too sure because the companies say it's one thing and the staff in California say it's another thing..."

Bucky fell asleep to the sound of his own voice reeling off Tony's speech.

*

Tony took over the ballroom with a gigantic map of the mansion. It was impressive work for rolls of kraft paper and a drafting pencil. He'd also turned the reel for the garden hose into a surveyor's wheel (promising up and down that he'd build a better holder later). Bucky spent hours reading comic books in the hallway while Tony puttered up and down the floor, the wheel clicking away.

"That's awful creepy, y'know," Bucky remarked as Tony chugged past him. Click, click, click.

"Why do you think I'm doing it in the middle of the day?" Tony shot back.

Bucky suppressed the urge to go chasing after Tony. He thought of all the times he tried to get little Steve to stay in bed, stay behind, stay safe, and he settled in to read the further adventures of imaginary globetrotters. Tony got cranky and snappish without a project to occupy him. This was a doozy. Bucky couldn't argue that it was necessary. He was just... leery that Tony would add up his numbers and come up with an impossible sum, like the house's dimensions didn't add up. Because... Bucky didn't want to think of the reasons.

He was probably reading too many comic books.

So when Tony bounced on the bed that night, his stabilizer still strapped on to his shoulder, Bucky was a bit unnerved when he said, "This floor has extra space in it!"

Bucky winced. "Why are you so excited about that?"

"Bucky!" Tony whined. "Secret passages!"

"Oh. Oh! Really?" Bucky perked up.

"It's got to be. I knocked on the wall between the front sitting room and that closet thing, and it sounded hollow."

"I shoulda thought of that," said Bucky, whining a bit himself. He yanked at Tony's straps, and Tony rolled his shoulder, squirming away as he picked at the buckle himself. "That means hidden doors, right?"

"This isn't one of your adventure stories," said Tony. He got this way sometimes, like he was imitating a grown-up he'd heard. Bucky tried not to get too wound up about it. "You can't go squeezing through the walls, doofus."

"On account of _your_ condition," Bucky grumbled.

Tony bristled, really working up a head of steam, then subsided. "How about I make you a mask? Maybe goggles like those old-timey..." He stopped.

Bucky was focusing on breathing deep and slow. Deep and slow. He was holding on to something. He realized it was Tony's hand.

"I'd like that," Bucky said after a long moment.

"Are you sure?" Tony squeaked. He looked a little pale, too.

"I can't explain it," Bucky said. "It's like," he struggled for the word, and to his surprise, it came up right away. "Déjà vu."

"From your past life? A... a mask?"

"You'll make one for me?" Bucky was suddenly intent on the answer. He gripped Tony's forearm. "Just for me? Something that'll fit snug on my face. Can I watch you make it?"

"Sure! Yeah, of course." Tony nodded vigorously, his — Bucky's — long hair escaping from his headband.

"I don't... know if it's a good thing or not," Bucky confessed. "It feels like it's a part of that," he nodded at Tony's prosthetic.

"But you want it."

"I want it."

"Then you'll get it. I'll make a set. I've already got the parts. And I've got calipers. I promise it'll fit like a glove. On your face. I mean, you know what I mean."

Bucky squeezed Tony's hand. "Besides, how am I gonna go eeling through the walls after you? Who's gonna kick you in the rear when you get yourself stuck?"

Tony protested, "It's your big butt getting me stuck!" He waited till Bucky was ready to let go, though, and let him unstrap the false arm for the night.

*

Tony already had two masks for Bucky half-made. Tony humored Bucky by letting him help with the finishing touches. Bucky humored Tony by letting him measure and adjust it to a perfect fit, like it was a three-piece suit and not a breathing mask. Tony didn't say a word when Bucky stuffed it into the bottom of the bag with the rest of their spelunking supplies.

Exploration of the hidden parts of the house happened in segments. They had to — it was too unsettling otherwise. Tony made one joke about crawling through its guts and then never again.

They went slowly, much more carefully than they were used to, in case they spotted any trace of someone (or something) inside the walls. Tony's parabolic lantern threw harsh light into the narrow spaces; the long shadows cast also made Bucky's skin crawl.

It turned out Bucky needed the mask. Tony got too scared to go too far in. Oh, he was fine if he was in sight of the door. But once he turned a corner, he started shaking, and breathing like he was caught in a blizzard. Bucky hauled him out of there, the first time. Tony yelled at him, crying, while Bucky caught _his_ breath. Tony tried a few more times, trying to train himself out of it. 

"I didn't get scared in the chimney!" Tony cried. "Why not the horizontal spaces too? It doesn't make any sense!"

"Of course it doesn't make an ounce of sense, Tony, it's not s'posed ta!" Bucky crossed his arms.

"It's probably some stupid grown-up thing." Tony rubbed at his stump. 

Bucky caught his hand before he took the rest of it off. "I've got the mask now. Rope me up and send me in. I can do your measurements."

"Your mask sucks," Tony said.

"You're the one who made it."

"It needs improvements." Tony scrambled up. Bucky was obliged to follow him.

The mask was blue this time, and had extra layers that Tony said were filters, with a big space around the jowls for Bucky to draw fresh air. Tony parked Bucky in front of the nearest hall mirror and made him put the mask on.

"Tony..."

"Hold still."

"What're you doin', you little menace?"

"I'm not little, you're little."

"No, you," said Bucky, muffled, as Tony popped a marker open and spit out the cap. "Do you even know how to draw?"

"I've been practicing drawing the _whole house_."

"Don't you give me a Goofy nose."

"You want a smile?"

"Not a greasy salesman smile!"

Tony hesitated, then came at Bucky with the marker. The outside of the mask was stiff enough to take the pressure. Bucky still reached out to steady Tony's elbow. "I'll put it a little higher than your own mouth."

"I want shark teeth."

"Stop talking. Tiger shark or great white shark?" Tony rolled his eyes. "Tap once for tiger shark."

Bucky ended up with a snaggle-toothed smile with a tongue half lolling out of wavy lips. They were laughing too hard to stand up, certainly too hard for Bucky to fend off Tony's attempt at drawing a goatee. It looked more like a cleft chin, or a demented comma.

As the giggles subsided, Tony aimed a sweet little smile at Bucky, and got up and offered his hand. He hauled him up with no problem. Once more he aimed him at the mirror.

"Now it's yours."

Bucky stared at himself, at Tony's eyes and Tony's gently curling hair, and half of Tony's face covered by the silly mask.

"Yeah," Bucky said, and he felt his heart kick a little less wildly. He hadn't noticed how skittish the mask made him. Now it was _his_. His own sharp eyes found Tony's in the mirror. "Better?"

Tony looked startled to be caught. "Better," he said after a moment.

After that, they settled on a system. Tony would open whichever secret door that was their starting point, then stand guard there. Bucky would suit up and squeeze through the passages. At every intersection, he placed a mirror so Tony could see him. If he found anything, or found a door, Tony would dart in after him for a quick few moments.

They were always careful to leave everything as they found it. It didn't seem right to add traps to the secret passages.

It seemed like the most prudent choice. The hidden doors were all well-oiled. Yet the dust in those passages was entirely undisturbed.

They still saw no sign of a generator. Tony slept fitfully for a week, ballpoint pen wiring diagrams wrapping around his otherwise useless arm.

 

* * *

 

The days were piling up. They took turns putting notches on their pillar; they needed a footstool to reach the latest marks. The second floor and half the third floor had been entirely mapped. They spent more time outside, learning to ignore the white picket fence in the distance, bared like a bleached set of teeth. Bucky learned to get used to the fragrant flowers, even picking some lavender for their baths. Tony learned to climb _everything_. Bucky routinely yelled at him for trying to break his neck.

Sometimes it would rain while they slept, and they'd feel a bit better about their water consumption. (It never rained while they were awake. If it rained at all. Talking about it was too unsettling.)

They did find the connection to the hatch under the water tower. It was a story-and-a-half tall, the entrance tucked behind a bookcase in the library. Tony wanted to climb up the shaft and try opening the hatch, but he relented after Bucky got antsy. This wasn't like the other passages. If he fell or got hurt, Bucky wasn't sure he could attend to him in the close space. With his weaker body. Tony resolved to build something to compensate.

By now Tony had built three different prosthetics, and was slowly teaching Bucky how to strap them on him properly. He didn't wear them often. They were for specialized jobs like reaching and harvesting and stabilizing. He hardly used them in the kitchen, which secretly made Bucky proud as punch. For everything else, Tony built things. He had no trouble whining at the house to provide him with a particular part, or else he'd cannibalize an existing gadget.

It was a good thing they had a steady supply of bread, because they were both awful at yeast doughs. However, Tony had built a hand-cranked mixing thing that he called a food processor and Bucky called a stand mixer. They could make doughs for pies and biscuits and stuffed breads. Sometimes it was just as important that the food be portable as delicious or filling. They brown-bagged it everywhere. They had a never-ending list of things to do around the house.

They tried not to think it might be literally never-ending.

They mapped out the yard. Tony made a list of the books they'd read, and Bucky joked that he was too young to be a librarian. Then in a test of strength and sheer stubbornness, Tony replumbed the drain from their main bathtub and channeled it to the English garden. Bucky could only watch him wrestle and kick at a wrench nearly as big as he was to extend the pipes away from the house. Tony also tested a slightly modified shovel, which to Bucky looked like any other shovel. They didn't talk about how Tony, in Bucky's body, was literally breaking the dirt with a metal shovel and heavy boots. By the end of the week, they had a small pond; their old bathwater now irrigated the flowers.

There were high points, like building an incline to race miniature soap-box cars down the second floor. Tony started to figure out how to rewire some of the house's electricity to string Christmas lights through some of the secret passages. Between the lights and the repurposed mirrors, the lighting dispelled most of his jumpiness. There was the week they tried to eat all the chocolate. Tony got chocolate chunk pancakes out of the deal, after that. 

*

There were low points, like Bucky building a trap in the side lawn and having it catch something. They were stunned to find the furry little body the next day. The only consolation was that it had died quickly. 

Tony surprised himself by not getting sick. He did forget himself, trying to pat Bucky's shoulder with his missing hand, but Bucky didn't register it at all. Taking one look at Bucky's pale, drawn face, Tony felt a terrible ache crushing his ribs, almost like the body he was borrowing could feel its original owner. Tony wiped a pair of leaked tears and fumbled for his pocketknife. "It looks healthy," he said quietly. It had been a cool evening; the 'sunlight' had barely hit yet.

Bucky stared at him. Then at the knife.

Tony wavered. "I mean, I could..."

Shaking his head, Bucky took the knife. "My fault," he said. Tony watched, half fascinated and half horrified as Bucky expertly prepped the animal. They should've put down a tarp, but there weren't any animals to be drawn to the blood. There hadn't been any other animals at all.

The house had simply, mindlessly provided. It was the only logical conclusion.

"I hate magic," Tony muttered. It was all so much correlation, so much bad data. Half his tutors would yell at him for believing any of this, and the other half would resign on the spot. There wasn't anything else to go on, though.

Once he was sure Bucky wouldn't keel over, Tony retreated to the nearby wheelbarrow and got the shovel. They buried the offal on the spot. Tony took extra care to pat the dirt down flat. Bucky crossed himself. He had blood under his fingernails. Tony carried the fur inside, while Bucky took the meat.

"We could put it in the freezer," Tony offered, halfway to the tinderbox.

Bucky shook his head wildly. "We're not freezing anything." He gulped. "Not unless it gets dire." He gently placed the meat on the carving board. "We can't waste..."

"Yeah. No. I mean, we can't. You're right."

Tony started the fire and set up the grill since it was too small for the spit. Bucky continued to separate meat from bone. He had a pan heating in the oven; Tony remembered something about soup stock, and marrow.

Tony stuck a baguette under the bread clamp and sliced it up, one eye on Bucky, who was preparing the meat almost mechanically. Tony felt like he ought to be grossed out. Then again, it wasn't like his household hadn't gotten orders of fresh meat from the butcher.

Bucky finished up, and halted for a moment. Like a statue.

"Uh, a little salt and pepper should be fine," Tony said.

Bucky turned to Tony. "We never saw any, right? Not even one."

"No! We've been watching out for animals since we got here!" Tony sounded a little loud to his own ears, but Bucky didn't seem to mind. "Buck, you couldn't have known. You were only copying the illustration in the book." And because he was worried, he added, "Please don't faint. I only have one working hand."

"I'm not gonna," Bucky said without much heat.

Tony cleared his throat. "Your shirt."

Bucky looked down at the streaks of blood on his shirt. "Oh. Lemme get the spare..." He shed the stained shirt, grabbing a basin on his way to their little storeroom.

Tony intercepted him on the way back, taking the bloodied shirt from his hands.

Bucky just sighed. "You know how to get those out? Run it under cold water, and I'll show ya." He sounded tired.

"Cold water. Got it."

"Tony? Did you ever... I mean, do you have any kind of forestry training?"

Tony lifted his shoulder. "That I remember? When I think of the wilderness, I think of wide places to blow things up safely. Relatively." He met Bucky's gaze. "Did you?"

"I don't think so, but..." Bucky grimaced. He grabbed the seasonings and rubbed them into the meat. "This isn't enough for a meal between us. We still have the knishes from yesterday?"

They went through the motions of preparing the meal. It was going to spoil their dinner, except Bucky usually prevailed on Tony to eat a dinner-and-a-half, so that was no big deal. The meat got slow-roasted over a drip pan; Bucky added the sizzling fat to the soup stock, and Tony followed his lead, getting the vegetables ready.

Once it was all set up, Tony fiddled with the fire to make sure the meat got the proper heat. Bucky sat next to him, at an angle to watch the stock pot.

"You don't think something would come out of the forest, do you?" Tony said quietly.

"I'm not worried about what's in the forest right now," Bucky said. That was what they called the space Beyond the Fence, even though what it looked like kept shifting. Bucky shook his head, staring at his hands. Tony's hands, full of calluses and specks of blood. Bucky rubbed at them. "I mean, I am, but we're halfway to building the lookout posts, so at least we'll see something coming."

"What's on your mind, then?" That sounded too bossy.

Again Bucky ignored his tone. "I'm from Brooklyn, Tony. I ain't never seen the inside of a slaughterhouse, or past the counter of a butcher shop. We weren't the kinda family that went up shootin' stuff in the country. I mean, look at us," he said, Tony's eyes reflecting his narrowed, hard expression. "We've got battle damage. We were... we were _done to_. This doesn't happen in the worst sorta factory accident. If it happened on the docks, we'd be dead. Not healed over. Unless your future's really strange..."

"You're right," Tony found himself saying. "Though I know what you're thinking. It's not impossible that kids would run into this... whatever we ran into."

"It's not any better if we were kids and not grown-ups!" Bucky retorted. His hands flexed. 

Tony got him a glass of water. They left it alone for a while.

While they let the meat rest on top of the bread slices, Bucky taught Tony how to remove bloodstains from clothing, and Tony tried not to feel weird about it.

The cooked meat was delicious.

*

They went to bed early.

Bucky was a little surprised to find Tony curling up with him like usual.

They couldn't go to sleep, of course.

Tony gave in after an hour, breaking open their bedroom cache — which still felt illicit, despite the lack of parents to scold them for bringing food to bed — and making peanut butter and graham cracker sandwiches. Bucky's he dipped in the sugar bowl. Bucky accepted the offering and refrained from kicking up a fuss about it. 

They huddled together, watching the darkness stealing across the front lawn. Wondering where the creatures were, and where they came from.

Lately, they hadn't been real serious about finding out how their mysterious household benefactor was doing things. They'd been taking more liberties around the quiet house: playing hide-and-seek in the secret passages, tossing paper airplanes from their new crow's nests on the roof. It had been enough to know they wouldn't starve, or have a chandelier fall on them. It hadn't tricked them into killing something, before. They'd have to bump that up the list.

"What if we're stuck here for a reason?" Tony whispered. "Like a prison. For bad people."

Bucky closed his eyes. "It's like there's a wall in my mind. I don't think it's from your brain. Like I was... trying real hard to remember things. And I can't help but keep trying."

"Opposite," admitted Tony. "Remembering things, from before this, it's still hard. It hurts to try. Not physically. It just _hurts_."

"Yeah." Bucky's heart seemed to speed up.

"My head fills up with the stuff we have to do, and then I avoid thinking about it." Tony's lip wobbled. He was sure thinking now, and it wasn't good.

"Usually... I'd say that Steve, giant Steve, he's coming to spring us. Except I think he'd do that anyway. For us."

So they wouldn't know if they were bad people or not. If they deserved this.

Bucky snorted. If he ever did see Steve again, and asked him, Steve would probably lie to his face and say they'd always been good people. He missed that kid. Even if he wasn't a kid anymore.

"It's no use, Tony," Bucky said at last. "The best we can do is hope we'll get out of here on good behavior. I don't wanna go past, do you?" Beyond the fence.

Tony shook his head so hard, crumbs ended up on the quilted coverlet. "No, no."

Minutes later, his hand wandered to Bucky's necklace of keys. He ticked the keys together before dropping them to take Bucky's hand.

"I don't think you're a bad person," whispered Tony.

"Back atcha," said Bucky, swallowing the lump in his throat. Maybe it was peanut butter. He grabbed his thermos, took a long drink, and offered the rest to Tony. "You were a big help, today. Thanks."

Tony sputtered. "I didn't do anything!"

Bucky laughed for the first time that day. He pushed the thermos at Tony and ruffled his hair. "Sure you did. Plenty."

 

* * *

 

The notches crawled up to the ceiling. Tony was beginning to make noises about picking a random day for a birthday party, except they were both terrible at making cakes, and they'd stopped asking the house for anything bigger than a safety pin.

Bucky would sometimes wake up in the middle of the night thinking he'd dreamed Steve. Tony was the one who'd laid eyes on him. Sometimes Giant Steve was the right one. Other times his weedy little Steve was the only real one. Bucky started to wonder if his grown-up self had been the one dreaming of Steve. Which was just twisty enough to blame on Tony's brain.

They played less. Oh, there were occasional dares like could Tony lift Bucky with his feet while lying on the floor, or could Bucky hit a bottle on the second floor with a ball from ground level. And they both liked to play catch after lunch. There were just so many things to do in a mansion of this size.

They were starting to make up chores for the sake of doing them, but they did still need doing. 

The kitchen garden thrived. Bucky didn't inflict beans on Tony that often, though Tony's prodigious appetite usually betrayed him. Tony grew a patch of wild garlic and added it to every savory dish. Bucky was, heaven help him, starting to like the taste of it.

It wasn't perfect. But there was an air of normalcy to everything, like a warm, comforting blanket thrown over a transparent sky.

*

Clank.

Clank.

Clank.

Bucky was awake and shoving Tony out of the bed, blanket-burrito and all, before Tony was aware enough to put his feet under him. Fortunately the blankets muffled his landing. Tony instinctively grabbed for Bucky, who rolled after him under the bed.

"Whu—?" Tony began, and Bucky clamped a hand over his mouth.

"Did you put away the wheel?"

Tony nodded, tensing into full wakefulness. The surveying wheel was down in Tony's locked storage closet.

They'd stayed up late before, watching and waiting and listening for any nighttime visitors. They'd changed bedrooms a couple of times. They'd never noticed any sign of another being in the house, ever.

There was something rattling down the hallway outside.

This wasn't clicking.

It sounded heavy.

It was coming closer.

In the dark, Bucky stared into the whites of Tony's eyes as they held their breaths. Kicking free of the blankets, Tony got his hand out and closed it around the hooked prosthetic he under the bed-frame. Bucky placed his hand on the baseball bat kept rolled up in old rags. His measly pen-knife wouldn't do a thing against... whatever was in the hallway.

Clank. Clank...! Clank! Clank!

Steady as a metronome. Like lumbering foot-falls.

Maybe it was Steve?

Tony squeezed Bucky's shoulder, shaking his head. 

Maybe it was another giant.

Maybe it was their benefactor, coming to collect.

Clank!

Clank!

Bucky struggled to breathe evenly. Tony blinked away anxious tears.

Silence.

Their ragged breathing sounded too loud.

There was an odd flash, like distant heat lightning. Bucky tried to remember if the window had been cracked properly. They'd drilled for this a half-dozen times. As long as the intruder didn't have any silent back-up, they had plenty of ways to evade it before figuring out how to take it down. Bucky reminded himself that it couldn't be taller than one story, to be able to fit in the hallway.

They waited.

Suddenly Tony whimpered, nosing Bucky's shoulder. Bucky realized why a second later. 

The door had been unlocked.

The key was hanging around Bucky's neck. But Tony had taught him how to pick all the door locks, which meant the thing knew how to pick locks or... 

It didn't need to.

"Don't leave," Tony whispered desperately. Bucky nodded, hoping the sweat wouldn't get in his eyes. They knew the plan. Tony was the power, Bucky would steer. And aim.

Boom! 

They jolted nearly out of their skin as the desk toppled to the floor like it was nothing. The door was open. 

There was a whine as the heavy desk was kicked aside. 

Clank. Clank.

Bucky could see two boots... metal boots, angular like an art deco painting... standing between the bed and the door.

Tony froze. He shook his head, nearly thumping the floor with his forehead.

Bucky was already pushing him, they were already making too much noise, Tony was embedded in place like a boulder, Bucky couldn't possibly push him. They had to make a break for it! The thing just _standing there_.

Then there was a long squeaking, like a grinding of gears, and something bumped the bedframe, and—

The whole bed was lifted off one side.

What stared back at them looked like a knight's armor, the color of blood and gold coins, with blue glowing slits for eyes, unblinking. A jewel-like light emanated from its chest, and from its palms, bright as flashlights. It had the bed by one hand. Bucky told himself it wasn't as tall as it looked.

Now the entire bed was between the boys and the window.

Bucky had enough presence of mind to lock his elbow with Tony's. He was just about to raise the wooden bat when its free hand rose, palm up, to _wave_ at them.

At the sight of the glowing hand, a scream ripped out of Tony. He grabbed Bucky and hurled them under the waving arm, past its legs, and out the open door into the corridor. Bucky barely got his feet under him before fumbling with the keys, which key was it, and they were falling into the bedroom across the hall, the one Tony had retreated to on the first night.

One handed, Tony undid the window latch. There was no time for safety ropes. Bucky locked the door. He still had the baseball bat, a miracle, and he chucked it through the window as soon as it was open. In his panic, Tony had left his prosthetic behind.

"What if it's the giants, what if it's with Steve," Bucky said as Tony lunged out to catch the drainpipe.

"That glowy thing it pointed at us is a weapon!" Tony spat out. He started to shimmy down.

Bucky gulped. "Please don't fall," he begged.

"I'll be careful," Tony promised. He flicked a glance up at Bucky. His eyes were wild. "Come down right after me."

"Right behind you," said Bucky.

They made it to the courtyard.

In the bushes, Tony pressed his fingers to Bucky's pulse point. Bucky felt shaky but he'd make it. He felt better with the bat back in his hands.

Nothing leaped out of the window to follow them.

They stole across the ground floor, certain at every moment that this creaking floorboard would give them away, that a walking suit of armor would pop out of the shadows. Bucky nearly jumped out of his skin when the grandfather clock began to chime. Two hours till 'sunrise'.

Hand-in-hand, they raced across the lawn towards the nasty white snarl that was the border fence. Halfway there, they dropped into the bunker Tony had dug out of a low hill, pulling the leaf-strewn tarp over them. 

Bucky leaned against a stack of canned goods, and dragged Tony to him. Tony scooted over readily. He hiccuped, or sobbed.

Bucky hugged him close and tried to slow his own breathing.

"How did you know?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know," said Tony. Yet he'd been dead sure.

"I'll take first watch," Bucky said. It wasn't till he added, "I'm not going anywhere," that Tony slumped on his shoulder, letting exhaustion take him.

*

Come morning, Tony wanted to go back in right away. Bucky wanted to stick to the plan. Tony climbed a tree and sulked, though he tossed down some fruit for Bucky's breakfast. There was no sign of their intruder. They hopped from cache to cache, some more finished than others, Tony griping the whole way that he should've made tunnels. Bucky muttered back that he was sick of trenches, but otherwise kept his hold on the baseball bat and the field-glasses, checking out every window as they advanced through their lookout posts.

Hour after hour dragged on.

Tony drank out of the garden hose and washed his face. "Maybe it was an illusion, like the first night."

"It lifted the bed with one hand!"

"I don't want to live out here," Tony said. He'd nearly added 'forever' but fortunately stopped himself in time.

"We could," said Bucky easily. "The tents are all okay. You were almost done with the fire-pit."

"Not when we have a whole _house_!"

"How do you s'pose it got here?"

Tony frowned. "Maybe it flew."

"A flying bloody knight," said Bucky flatly.

"It wasn't blood. I..."

"Did you know it? From before?"

Tony shook his head, but it was more denial than actually answering. There had been something immensely familiar about the knight. And frightening. Every time he chased the thought, it slipped away. Part of him felt like a big chicken for running, but the moment it had raised its hand, his only thought had been for Bucky.

The property was big enough for the two of them to evade it for a while. But if it caught them...

Tony thought he might get out of it. But not Bucky. And he wasn't losing Bucky.

*

On the second day, they ventured back into the house.

The place was dust-free as usual. "Maybe it's just a cleaning robot," Tony said.

"Something that big?"

"It was human sized. How else would it reach the high shelves? Maybe all this time we've been scared of a mechanical butler."

"You said it had a weapon. A butler with a ray gun?"

"If I built a butler, it'd have a ray gun."

Bucky just rolled his eyes. He looked a lot more like Tony for a second.

They ducked into a secret passage only at first, figuring it would be waiting for them at the entrance. They crept through achingly slow, sensitive to every sound, on a hair trigger. Tony breathed a little easier once he strapped on a prosthetic. It was only the stabilizer, but it had a bit of heft to it. He'd need it if he were to get into the fine work of disabling the knight.

He didn't think it was alive. Then again, he didn't think the house was alive either.

They sneaked out into the main hallways soon after. The flat surfaces and furniture of the house were in their usual immaculate condition. Tony remembered that when he'd been smaller, he'd thought hotel rooms cleaned themselves, and had always felt guilty after finding out what exactly the maids did while the occupants were away.

But one could hear a cleaning crew coming. How was 'it' getting in? How did 'it' know when they were asleep? 

They'd heard the knight. Was it affiliated with the house? Tony wondered if they'd guessed wrong. If he'd screwed up.

"You know," he whispered to Bucky, "after this I'm going to be scared of Santa Claus. How's he not a bearded cat burglar?"

Bucky was trying not to laugh, he really was. He nudged Tony. "Ya better watch out."

Tony snickered.

They sobered up quick when they discovered boot impressions in the solarium. They started from the middle of the room.

It was Bucky who said it. "Flying?"

Tony knelt down and sniffed the floor. "I can't smell any rocket fuel. But," he scrambled up and pointed overhead.

Bucky spotted it right away. He groaned quietly. "The window's unlocked."

Of course it was among the few windows they couldn't secure nightly. They checked in on it every few days. Well, it was more like every week, lately.

"It could've parachuted in..." A terrible thought seized him.

Bucky dispelled it like he was reading his mind. "I've been checking the ceilings. It's in all the stories. Nobody ever looks up."

Tony nodded, pathetically grateful. "So are we gonna Sherlock Holmes this?" Over wood the footsteps disappeared, but they were easy to spot on the thick-piled carpets.

Bucky twirled the bat and slid his goggles on. Tony had rigged them with a light, like a miner's helmet. He switched it on.

They followed the footsteps up the stairs to the floor with their bedroom.

Tony exchanged a look with Bucky. The knight had gone straight for them.

The doors were all shut. They approached the bedrooms, leading with their respective weapons. 

What they found was anticlimactic. The bedrooms hadn't been changed since that night. The covers in their main bedroom were still all over the floor, and the bed had been shifted. The smaller bedroom was still locked. Bucky unlocked it, and they found the window by the drainpipe still open.

"I guess it didn't follow us inside," said Tony.

Bucky had a steely-eyed look that made Tony a bit nervous. "Then where is it now?"

*

They found it in the library. 

Tony nearly bowled over Bucky backing up from the door. It was just sitting on the piano bench like a prop in a museum. None of its lights were on.

"Don't touch it," Bucky hissed.

Tony prodded it with his prosthetic. It didn't budge.

They spent a good half-hour trying to make sure it wasn't an elaborate trap. And another half-hour thinking of elaborate traps to get them into the library.

When it was clear that it wasn't waking up, Bucky had them fetch the mirrors so they could have a clear sightline of the knight as far away as the nearest stairs' landing. As Tony draped Christmas lights over the primary mirror, Bucky asked him what he thought was happening.

"It could be a vampire knight that only comes out at night..."

"Just say it, a night knight," grumbled Bucky.

Tony giggle-snorted. "Or it ran out of power."

"Tony, this thing weighs a ton. We could rig up a dozen pulleys and not be able to lift it." Since they'd lifted the grand piano it was sitting beside, this was a relevant point. "Where's its engine?"

"I don't know..."

Bucky eyed it with suspicion. "It was looking at us."

"You're not saying it's smart, are you?"

"Something was smart. It knew how to find us."

"That's not possible," Tony said automatically. "It would take... rooms and rooms of computers. Although, if they figured out the... never mind, I guess it's not _probable_. Not in something man-sized."

Bucky lowered his voice. "You don't think there's anything in there, do you?"

Tony spent the rest of the day trying to open up the knight's armor. He couldn't stop touching it, marveling at the fabrication process that must have created it. Bucky refused to go near it. He mumbled at last that he thought it might be possessed. Tony scoffed, but after a look at Bucky's face, he only touched it with his tools or the prosthetic.

It wouldn't open. All the places where Tony reasoned there must be a catch, it was all locked tight.

That night, he dreamed of the bright jewel in its chest, and woke up sweating.

*

"Wadda we do with it?"

Tony and Bucky crossed their arms in front of the knight. They hadn't slept all night. They were supposed to take turns, but having their intruder sitting in the middle of the library was too much. Bucky's hair (Tony's) was sticking up in all directions. Tony's (Bucky's) was a limp curtain around his face.

Tony sighed. "Leave it here?"

*

They chained it down to the piano, and in turn chained the piano to a pillar.

They poured salt on top of the helmet, and enclosed the suit in a salt circle. All remained undisturbed in the morning. And the one after that, and after that. It never moved, not once. 

(Something was still replacing the stores, and doing the cleaning.)

"It'll break the chains, easy," Bucky said over oatmeal. 

Tony knocked his head on the table. "At least we'll hear it coming."

*

It was still hard for them to get to sleep at night. They kept listening for the tell-tale sound of footsteps in the hallway. They were moving bedrooms almost every night, too, which disturbed their comfortable nesting routine with its familiar sightlines and jars of snacks and decks of playing cards.

There were no empty chores, not anymore. Tony started to build platforms and handholds all over the grounds. He forbade Bucky from hauling anything heavy, but Bucky happily went around the house smashing open walls for small planks of wood, and pre-drilling them according to Tony's plans. The lookout towers they'd planned to play pirates in were now situated and stocked like castle turrets. Window sills that were points of entry were removed. Others were lengthened with telescoping bridges to connect different parts of the roof. The secret passages were locked down.

Bucky did go around the house apologizing to their benefactor. It was all for a good cause: to defend the house. Where Tony was feverishly busy, Bucky was skittish and withdrawn.

Being kicked out of the library was putting a strain on them. They did take breaks — setting off lines of dominoes down the stairs, or bowling in the hallway — but they couldn't abide by the blank stare of the metal knight on the piano bench. Tony also kept trying to mess with it, talking of giving it a flower crown or an empty mug, while Bucky kept snapping at him to leave it alone.

Since reading in the library was out of the question, books began to lose their shine. Instead they told each other stories, the ones they could remember. The ones that wouldn't make them homesick. Tony didn't like the Tarzan tales, but Bucky astonishingly had a great recall of dozens of robot stories, which Tony ate up. Tony started telling Bucky about Star Trek. Then Tony started acting out Star Trek with puppets and an army of paperclip people.

They did an episode every other day, though for a week or so Bucky got Tony to skip ahead to the movies.

"So what happened to Mr. Spock?"

"That's the next movie." Tony turned over.

Bucky kept Tony from stealing the covers. "So?"

"It hasn't come out yet!"

Bucky kicked Tony. Tony kicked back.

"Tony, doesn't that give you a date? In the future?"

Tony turned back to his back, staring at the ceiling. "It would... if I could remember the year it came out. Besides, it doesn't matter if I don't remember the year I was born." He let out a heavy sigh. "The future doesn't do us much good here."

Bucky reached over Tony and got the edge of the blanket to tuck him in properly.

Tony said, "I bet he survives. I bet he's okay."

"Sounds a little far-fetched..."

"No, it could work. It's science _fiction_. They landed it in the middle of the planet and it was all coming back to life. You never know." Tony automatically snuggled up to Bucky's free arm. Bucky grumbled perfunctorily; he always woke up with pins-and-needles. "He'd be all alone, though," Tony said drowsily.

"Then they'll come back for him," said Bucky, solid and sure. "They're pals, right?"

"Guess," mumbled Tony.

Bucky swept the room one last time, and sank into his pillow to sleep.

*

To Tony's consternation, Bucky started to lay traps on the regular. He never used any that would cause even a small amount of suffering, and checked them constantly.

"What if the house wants to mess you up?" Tony whispered in Bucky's ear as they climbed one of the apple trees.

"You don't have to watch..."

"That's not what I said! Bucky. You get weird when you're preparing the meat." Tony shifted all the way around, easily switching his hold to another branch, heedless of the height. "It's something from before, isn't it?"

"It's something I'm good at," Bucky said. "Look, we ate our way through that ham a few days ago. We haven't even used up all the soup we made from the bone. A whole ham, Tony! Even in your time you know that ain't cheap. And then another one appeared. I'm not too proud to take charity, but _I don't think this is charity._ "

That gave Tony pause. He glanced up at the empty windows of the house. "The amount of stuff we've wished for has already passed a notebook's worth of lists. More of the same isn't going to make things worse."

"You ain't ever had a debt collector lookin' for you. We're already tearing up the house. It could be building up ill-will."

"You didn't answer the question. You didn't want to do this before!"

"If we're on the side of angels, we don't want to be beholden to anything hinky. If we're not," Bucky said, looking down not at his own hands but at Tony's hand. Technically his hand. Tony used it so often for hard labor that it was starting to develop calluses — in the same places as on Bucky's. "If we're not, then I've already got this in my head and it's no use denying it. It's not your body, alright? It's in my head. I can feel it. 'M sorry for sullying your hands with it."

"They're your hands," said Tony. He realized that might be taken wrong. He added, "I wish you didn't have to. That's all." He took a breath. "Bucky, what if it's the forest sending animals to you? What if you're in debt to it?"

Bucky huffed, unable to answer.

Tony hated magic.

Tony continued to drag his heels, but he still took over salting and smoking the kills, and went down with Bucky when he unlocked the freezers. Dutifully counting their contents, every time. There was never any missing. There was never any added, either, which only strengthened Bucky's resolve. Tony even joined Bucky when they said a few words of thanks for the bounty.

They always left a cut of the caught meat out for their daily offering. It always disappeared with the rest of the food.

*

They weren't sure what tipped them off. Maybe it was a change in the wind. A flicker in the fire. They were in the middle of mashing potatoes when something began to shift.

Tony put his knife away. Bucky slipped his in the holster he'd fashioned last week.

It was the middle of the 'afternoon.' The robin egg blue sky grew bright for a moment. Then it began to crack.

The boys gaped as the hairline crack spread down invisible fault lines to split the sky.

Then the light began to fail.

Bucky fumbled for his mask. "It's the end of the world," he said hoarsely.

"Not if we've got anything to say about it," said Tony. "If it's cracking, that means there's a way out. Come on!"

It was mid-afternoon, and the light began to die.

That decided it for Bucky. He grabbed Tony's bum arm. They made for the front door.

They were nearly to the entrance foyer when something huge slammed into the front steps outside. Tony clapped a hand over his scream. The impact was so massive that the thick, heavy door splintered from the outside in. Tony sketched out force calculations in his head, and thought of meteorites.

Was this what was coming for them from the forest? Was it going to collect on its debts? 

They scrambled backwards. They were halfway up the stairs when a hair-raising roar echoed through the ground floor.

"Mother of God," said Bucky beneath his mask.

"Can't lose it now," said Tony. One exit down, but they'd made more than the original three. The darkness began to seep into the house, but for their rewired electric lights.

Wood shrieked and exploded.

The invaders were inside the house.

"No," Bucky said suddenly, and pushed Tony down a side corridor, toward the poky staircase back down to the kitchen. "The lights. Kill the lights."

The stairs were narrow. Room for single-file only. Bucky was practically shoving Tony down them. "Don't get separated," Tony whispered furiously.

"Shut up, Tony, keep moving!"

Tony made it to the cellar, past the pale shapes of the locked freezers. Bucky nearly let go of him when another roar rocked the floor above them. They'd have to double back, they'd have to be quick... Bucky had his key ready, and they opened the box of circuit breakers. Tony yanked the master switch.

Now all the lights were off.

They could hear muffled sounds of confusion as they creeped up the stairs. Bucky was breathing hard under the mask. His hand was digging into Tony's arm.

There were a lot of them, whatever they were.

Bucky held up a finger. Tony nodded. From the first floor they could climb down and get to the yard and gardens, or decide to make for higher.

Every now and then, they'd catch a glimpse of the lawn _rippling_ , followed by the same ominous roar.

Slow and steady, they belly-crawled across the open balcony above the ground floor. Voices floated up from below.

"...don't understand why there was no contact made."

"Heads up. The whole place could be booby-trapped."

"Great. Just— hang on, Cap wants comm silence."

The boys were almost to the main hallway. They froze.

The nearest gabled window was down that hall and around the corner.

Carefully, Bucky chanced standing up. He held out his hand to Tony, and pulled him along. They tiptoed down the hallway, hugging the wall.

They were almost to the window when another voice said: "First floor, north wing. I've got them."

"Steve," whispered Bucky.

He let go of Tony.

Tony felt the loss immediately. In the smothering darkness he felt for Bucky. "It might not be him. What if it's a mimic? A fake! We haven't seen any of them," he said urgently.

He felt rather than saw Bucky sway toward the sound of Giant Steve's voice.

Then Bucky's feet shifted back in Tony's direction.

"Come over here," said Bucky.

They turned the corner and met the dim, blue eye-slits of the metal knight.

Startled as he was, at first Tony wasn't frightened. He couldn't say why. The knight was simply standing there, blending into the baleful eyes of the wallpaper and the shadowy hallway. Like another harmless piece of furniture. The jewel on its chest was missing its glow. And the weapons in its hands were dark. It was as though it had gotten up to see what was happening, then simply stopped in the middle of the corridor like a toy that needed winding.

Bucky was also unfazed. He glanced at the knight, took a measure of its demeanor, and turned back to Tony.

"We gotta take off," Bucky said. At the same time, he took a step. In the dark, he must have bumped into the armor.

It happened so fast.

The armor bent down and Tony only realized it had turned itself inside-out the moment it absorbed Bucky into its innards. The chestpiece slammed down. Hidden locks clicked. The fully lit jewel now glared at him from the center of its chest.

Bucky hadn't even gotten a sound out.

Bucky's mask was on the floor.

The knight raised its hand.

Tony swallowed a shriek, backpedaling fast. He grabbed the mask, stuffed it in his back-pocket, and scrambled away. In the corner of his eye, he saw the knight — man-eating knight, why hadn't they guessed that?! — sprout fire from its feet, before the flames sputtered out and it hit the ground.

Tony ran.

He hated every bit of it. But he had to run. He had to, to regroup, to think of some way to rescue Bucky and get away from the invaders.

He couldn't help the thought drumming through his head: _it's all my fault._

What if they were souls floating around the house and the knight never gave Bucky's soul back? What if it wanted a soul for itself? What if it had come to collect...?

By the time Tony's brain caught up with his panic, telling him he should've picked a destination, he ran into a wall.

It wasn't a wall.

It was a giant.

Who scooped him up like he was nothing.

"There you are," said Giant Steve. "Thank—"

"I'm not going back with you!" Tony screamed. He had to get Bucky back. Giant Steve had promised, he'd promised they'd be fine if they stuck together, and they'd done that and the metal knight had gobbled up his friend anyway. For all he knew, the giant was going to do the same to him.

"Bu—"

Tony kicked as hard as he could. "Nonononono!" He felt the impact up his leg, and just knew it wouldn't do any good — this guy had made a twelve foot jump like it was nothing — and then the giant dropped him, grunting with surprise.

"Trust me," pleaded the giant. "We'll take you back and make you all better—"

"I don't know you!" Tony howled, scrabbling on the missing arm, hard enough to bruise. When he got his feet under him, he saw the ashen expression on the giant's face. The guy was stunned silent. He looked like he was about to cry again.

Well, it was as good as kicking him in the balls. Better, since Tony wasn't sure he could reach that high, and his costume was probably armored, and also that was super gross. Tony took off. He stopped compensating for the arm and was banging his shoulder every time he rounded a corner.

"Buck! Come back! We're not the enemy!"

Tony remembered that the giant didn't know they'd been switched. Irrelevant data. Maybe Giant Steve was strong and fast and had sensitive hearing, but he didn't know the house. And he didn't know what Tony could do.

Tony skidded around the corner and ducked into the nearest hidden door. 

*

Every twist and turn through the darkened warrens made Tony queasy, but so did the sense that he'd done this before — that he knew how to do this and get out the other side. Tony paused at a junction. Impulsively he fished out Bucky's mask and fastened it with the knot Bucky had shown him. That way he wouldn't lose it. Maybe his breathing wouldn't give him away as much; he felt he was panting like a racehorse. 

Tony quickly realized he'd be pinned down inside the house. After a few minutes skittering around the hidden catwalk above the ballroom, he jumped for the ceiling-high curtains and slid down, resisting the urge to drop down the last few feet. They were still knocking on the walls, good. Opening doors would be a problem if they were listening for him, but there was at least one door that was already open. He darted into the library. 

The broken chains around the piano made him shiver. He slipped into the secret passageway, and began to scale the walls. 

The space under the water tower was a tight squeeze. Tony had oiled the hatch's joints at least twice since they'd gotten here, and it opened without a sound.

It was dangerous to be on the roof when it was pitch dark, but Tony hardly cared. He felt the buffeting breezes and he felt wildly, desperately free, like a kite whose string had been cut. Below, he could make out the mangled lawn. Whatever had done that had stopped, because he no longer heard the roaring.

He ran across the ridgeline to the nearest platform. No Bucky to yell at him for taking chances.

Where was it, where was it... here! Adrenaline pumped through him as he strapped on one of his heaviest prosthetics. Bucky's body was strong enough to withstand all sorts of stress. He'd tried not to test it in front of Bucky, as it seemed to cause him discomfort. Tony had a good idea of its limits, though. He'd have to use Bucky's body to get him back.

When he looked up again, he realized someone had sneaked up on him.

It was a woman in black. Tony sat on a vague feeling of recognition; it didn't matter, they were all in the way, between him and Bucky.

She crouched down on the edge of the platform, aware that he was watching her. Then, with her hand outstretched, she said something in a foreign language. Her tones were kindly. Even in the dark, Tony could see that her posture was actually coiled to spring.

He mashed a button. The platform jerked to a steep angle, dislodging the woman like a catapult. Tony held on to the stationary railing while all the unsalvageable items tumbled down after her.

Someone else below yelled a string of bad words. Tony caught sight of the woman climbing back up the main roof, and the relief was palpable. But he couldn't stop for them. He was busy with something else.

Tony leaped to the next platform, which was actually closer to the water tank, though below it. He had to lure the knight out of hiding, and he could see exactly where: a spot where the gables and sloping roof would put anyone or anything between a gap only narrow enough for single-file, and a sheer drop into the side garden several stories below.

They did seem to want to capture him alive, after all...

Of course, he wasn't entirely reckless. He picked up one end of a rope and fastened it to the carabiner on his belt. The other end of the rope was attached to a modified pulley, one that swung around 360 degrees. He was just about done testing his knots when the potty-mouthed guy tried to get the drop on him.

Tony threw a punch with the heavy prosthetic.

More bad words! Wow. "...brat tried to kneecap me! Do not laugh, of course we need backup. It's the _Soldier_."

Tony zipped his lips over a manic laugh as he ran full speed off the platform and swung like Tarzan across half the length of the roof. He leaped and made the next platform with a foot to spare.

He was getting closer to the edge, and he knew he had to be closer to getting Bucky back. He had to.

*

It felt like hours, though later Tony would check the system chronometers and find that only minutes elapsed. He'd fired flares in Giant Steve's face and then almost(!) lasso'd his ankles. He'd spilled soapy old bath-slime down one steep incline. The woman was real quick, but she was also afraid of hurting him, and he used it to slip away from her twice. 

Giant Steve kept calling Bucky's name, which made Tony's chest feel hot and tight and wobbly all at once. Mostly mad, though, because they still weren't sending the knight out. He was almost sure they were all in it. The betrayal made him madder.

There were only the three of them going after him. Potty-mouth nearly got a hold of him, except he swung inside the attic, rolled into a sprint, and came out the other side through a loosened vent. From back there, he nearly nailed him with a bag of ground-up hot peppers, but Potty-mouth batted it away with his weapon at the last second.

"Smell you later, sucker!" Tony couldn't help but hoot.

As he traversed the roof to the closest nook, Potty-mouth hollered out, "Hold fire, everybody! I got this."

"He's running out of roof," warned the woman.

"Clint...!" began Steve.

Tony made the mistake of looking back. Suddenly a net closed around him, swallowing him up, and he fell on his butt in the middle of the last platform.

He wouldn't cry. He would not. Cry.

The guy... Clint, was on him in a second. "Hold still, brat." He lifted the mask from Tony's face. 

"You can't have that! It's not yours!"

"Not yours either," said Clint knowingly. "You're not Bucky, are you?"

"That's what your mom said!"

"Oh my God," said Clint. "I know you can break through this net in a few minutes, but just hang on a second, will ya? And no biting, I swear to—!"

"That explains it," said the woman. She picked up Tony like he weighed nothing, and held him in a loose hug. It was comforting and infuriating all at once.

"You give him back!" Tony snarled.

Clint was way too relaxed. "You heard him, Cap."

"I..."

"The longer he keeps struggling, the longer we stay here. And our sedatives won't work on him."

Moments later, something crashed through the attic window. It was Giant Steve, of course.

And behind him was the metal knight. The armor.

Tony tore his gaze away from the bizarrely familiar satellite dish of a shield Steve was carrying to watch the armor approach. It clanked towards them. He had one leg free, which wouldn't be enough, though the woman didn't seem to mind it.

"One problem," said Steve. "The armor is in lockdown. Bruce says it's automatic—"

"Thor says it's not a problem," said Clint, and he drew an arrow, nocked it, and fired close-range at the light in the armor's chest.

"NO!" Tony cried. Bucky was inside...!

Then at the last moment, the arrowhead splayed out around the arc reactor. Bolts of energy jumped from it, lightning in the darkness.

Every light on the armor became blindingly bright. The eye-slits flared.

Tony kicked off the net and squirmed away from Natasha.

Then the knight spoke.

"My apologies, Sir. I'm afraid the lack of power compromised my sensors."

" _Jarvis?!_ "

The armor opened up like a weird blood-and-flame flower, and spit Bucky out.

"That's what I was tryin' to tell ya!" Bucky hollered, then he pushed past Steve and, shaking like a leaf, gathered Tony up.

Neither of them let go.

 

* * *

 

Back home, and un-switcheroo'd, and in their own adult bodies, Steve spent an inordinate amount of time apologizing to both Bucky and Tony. For convenience, they'd been put in the same medical ward so they could listen to the apologies all at once.

The magical artifact that had held them hostage had also messed with time. However long they'd been there — they'd left before properly tallying the notches, which was very annoying — only a week had elapsed from the incident to the present moment.

Before Steve ran out of steam, he did tell them both he was proud of them. "You two barely looked the other in the eye, before. I heard how much time passed for you. You must've made a great team in there."

He smiled hopefully as Bucky mulled over his once-more nightmarish memories, and Tony sullenly went over every point where his strategy-tree had fallen apart.

Steve sighed. "At least try to take something positive from it, would ya, fellas?"

"Your attempts at communicating with the younger set leave a lot to be desired, Rogers," Tony remarked.

Steve apologized again.

Bucky... ignored them both.

*

Tony spent quite a bit of quality time talking to JARVIS about magical counter-measures and protocols. He still hated magic. The thing was that Tony still recalled the raw terror at the very idea of losing their souls in the matrix, so to speak. Just because he couldn't explain it didn't mean he couldn't take steps to guard against it. He had some long overdue talks with Thor about the particulars.

It seemed the easiest approach — and JARVIS heartily agreed — was beefing up his identification protocols. Doppelgängers and saboteurs were part of the job, after all. 

There was something deep and philosophical about that. Tony tried not to dwell.

*

Bucky was quiet. He kept flexing his arm, venting his plates over and over. Thinking about how they were _his_ plates.

He stole a few blank pages from Steve's sketchbook, and began to draw a mask.

*

"Hey, Barnes? Bucky?"

"Yeah, Tony."

"I feel like pancakes. You feel like pancakes?"

"I could eat," said Bucky. He rolled his metal shoulder. Popped his neck.

"Chocolate chip," Tony declared.

"You're buying."

"Hell, yes. I love electricity. In robust networks. Powered by actual sustainable tech. So I can electronically access my money, and make it my treat. By the way, have I shown you the latest ideas about your arm? The metal one."

"Nope."

"They include secret compartments..."

Bucky nudged Tony. Tony listed to the side.

"Talk to me," said Bucky. "I'm all ears."

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> The prompts:   
>  3) Somehow, Tony and Bucky are turned into little kid versions of themselves. They have no memories of being adults, but they still have scars and injuries from being adults. They're not sure what to make of this strange situation they're in but decide to face it together. 
> 
>  
> 
> 1) Bodyswitch 
> 
> 3) Ghost story 
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> ETA after reveal: There's some fun author babble in the comments, but in case this angle slips by, or I forget (which happens) — Bucky didn't think the seasons would remain mild and ideal. He was preparing for the winter. ETA 31 July: Atmospheric edits. 
> 
>  
> 
>    Avengers don't belong to me, I only haunted the house. Title is adapted from a line from _House on Haunted Hill_ (1959). My actual first love is _The Haunting_ (1963), based on Shirley Jackson's _The Haunting of Hill House_ , but the former fits the story a teeny tiny bit better. If you're going to watch the latter, the best possible sound quality is highly recommended. 


End file.
